


all reason flown

by delimeful



Series: October 2019 Prompts [5]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Avian Patton, G/T, Gen, Giant/Tiny, Hurt/Comfort, Unethical Experimentation, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-24 16:07:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21340975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delimeful/pseuds/delimeful
Summary: Virgil never thought he would see an Avian, but then he wakes up one morning to the sound of one of the tiny, winged people being slammed into his window by the storm. Faced with a terrified face and a broken wing, his day has just gotten a lot more stressful.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Morality | Patton Sanders
Series: October 2019 Prompts [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1533644
Comments: 15
Kudos: 299





	1. Day 10: Broken

Patton woke up to darkness.

He lay there for a moment, unable to tell the difference between the dark around him and the back of his eyelids. This wasn’t the labs. Where was he?

He remembered flying for hours, pushing himself to exhaustion, terrified and elated to finally spread his wings again. He remembered a storm, rolling in fast and hard, catching him in its tearing winds. He was tossed around, unable to muster the strength to break free, until- 

He’d hit an invisible wall at full speed, and blacked out from the pain. 

_His wing!_

He sat upright, twitching his wings automatically, and was immediately hit with a wave of agonizing pain, his nerves aflame. His heart sank. 

After he’d done so much, come so far… He was finally free, and then fate had to yank the updraft from beneath his wings, leaving him spiralling down. He reached out, feeling for the comforting downy feathers to see how bad it was, but when he felt around for his injury, a different texture met his hands. Cotton… Bandages? 

Humans, he realized with a jolt, his breath quickening. Humans had found him, and now he was trapped again, _theirs_ again. 

Except this time, there wasn’t any hope of escape. He was grounded, useless, as good as dead. Patton slumped back against the fabric he was laying on, trying to hold back tears. His wing was broken, and with it, his spirit. 

-

Virgil took a deep breath, scrolling frantically through a web search on bird injuries. 

He’d already tried searching for Avian-specific help, and been thoroughly horrified at the number of results telling him that the most humane thing to do was euthanize it or take it to a testing center. Like the little being he’d found crumpled on his porch was some dumb animal that couldn’t make choices for itself.

It was just a wing. The little guy had taken significant damage from the fall, and Virgil suspected he had some sprains as well, but the only thing broken was one of those tiny tawny wings. It was important, yeah, but if it couldn’t be saved, the Avian could still live without it! 

And that Avian wanted to live. Virgil had seen it in his eyes, in the way he struggled and pushed against his hold even while barely conscious. He wanted to live and Virgil was going to do everything he could to make it possible. 

He’d already carried the little guy inside, wrapped carefully in a towel, and then rushed to the nearest pet supply store for vet tape. He’d folded the wing into its normal resting position and wrapped the tape thoroughly around it and the little guy’s torso, keeping it pinned to his back.

He’d waited a few minutes for him to wake up, and then started worrying about shock and put him in a large, padded box instead. He cast another glance over to where it sat on the table, wondering if it would be better or worse to have the top open so he could check in.

As though on cue, there was a light thump, and the sound of rustling. He sat ramrod straight before hurrying across the room, hands stopping just before he could pull the top of the box off. His mind raced, wondering what the right thing to do was, he’d barely ever even seen an Avian before, let alone-

There was the smallest sob from within the box, and Virgil’s hands tore the lid off without any conscious input.

The Avian yelped, one wing flaring out as he ducked away from the light, and Virgil felt immediately guilty. He shifted his body to lean over the box so that his shadow fell over the tiny form. 

“Sorry, sorry. I forgot how dark it must have been in there.” _Nice job, screw up._ “Are you okay?”

He waited, but it seemed that the Avian wasn’t in the mood for conversation, because he scooted back and curled himself into a ball in the corner of the box, visibly shaking. His heart twisted, recognizing the panic he’d felt himself constantly. 

“Okay, that’s okay, you don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. Try and take some deep breaths, okay? I’m gonna get some water for you.” He withdrew slowly, and then hurried to the kitchen, grabbing a cheap plastic shot glass from a cabinet, washing it out and filling it 3/4th of the way full. 

By the time he got back, careful not to stomp, he could see the Avian jumping for the top of the box, one wing flapping desperately as he bumped against the cardboard wall. He cleared his throat and watched awkwardly as the little guy immediately reverted to his tiny ball of panic, the unbound wing ruffled as though he expected to be attacked. 

“You want out of the box, huh? I don’t blame you.” Virgil mumbled as he set the water down on the table. He reached a hand into the box, intending to lift the Avian out, but paused, watching the way the tiny form flinched at the sight of the shadow looming over it. He quickly retracted his hand, chiding himself. He wouldn’t want to be grabbed either.

“Um… Oh! I’m going to tilt the box so you can get out on your own, okay? Brace yourself.” He gripped both sides of the box and slowly tilted it to sit on its side. 

The Avian seemed to unfurl slightly at his words, and once the box had settled, he scrambled out of the box, keeping his front to Virgil at all times, eyes locked on him. Virgil sat down, averting his gaze as he nudged the shot glass a little closer. “Uh, here’s water. I figure you’re probably a little dehydrated, you’ve been sleeping for almost a whole day since I found you.” 

A flash of movement caught his eye, and he looked up in time to see the Avian take a running leap off the edge of the table, wing flared out as though it alone could possibly catch him. He must have made some kind of noise as he lunged out of his seat, but all he could focus on was catching the tiny form before it plummeted. 

He hit the ground hard, all of the air forced from his lungs, but he could feel the Avian’s body struggling in his clasped hands, and he sagged in relief. He opened his hands, letting the tiny bird person scramble off as though burned. “If you wanted to get to the floor, you could have just asked.” He snarked, pressing his face to the ground as the adrenaline dissipated. “I get you don’t want to be grabbed but I could have worked out something that wouldn’t get you even more broken bones.”

He was honestly talking mostly to himself at that point, so it was a surprise to look up and find the Avian standing a few feet away, watching him. He took a few rapid steps back upon meeting Virgil’s gaze, but didn’t bolt away for the first time. 

Virgil tried to offer him a reassuring smile, though it probably came off as more of a grimace. “Hey. Sorry. I’m… I’m Virgil.”

The Avian stared at him for a long moment, something unreadable in his eyes, and then turned and fled to the gap under his sofa without a word.

Virgil sighed, letting his head thunk back down. This was going to be a long recovery period.


	2. Day 15: Control

It had been days, and Patton was still successfully hiding away under the couch. 

He didn’t understand it. The human- Virgil- seemed completely uninterested in trying to lure him out as far as he could tell. It was possible that he was using tactics that Patton simply hadn’t seen before, of course- the scientists had often chided him for being too stupid to solve a problem or puzzle they laid out for him. 

Still, he couldn’t help but feel that whatever Virgil was trying to pull, it was a lot less effective than simply moving the couch and grabbing him. He knew the human could do it, he’d watched him scoot a large armchair over in order to sit in that and still be facing the small TV in the room. For some reason, Virgil never used the couch. Patton couldn’t say he wasn’t glad. 

That wasn’t the only odd thing the human did. Instead of starving him out, he regularly set plates and bowls of food and water on the floor, proceeding to slide them under the couch. Instead of drugging Patton so he could trap him again without resistance, Virgil took portions of food and water from his own plate before he ate, as though he understood Patton’s reluctance to trust anything he prepared. Instead of trying to bait him out from his hiding place or calling pest control, he generally left Patton alone, only occasionally narrating his actions or asking if the Avian preferred anything for dinner. Patton never responded, but Virgil didn’t seem to mind.

It was unnerving, especially because there was a growing part of Patton that wanted to believe that the human really didn’t mean him harm. He fiddled absently with the edges of the tape wrapped around his wing, watching Virgil’s socked feet move around in the kitchen. 

The human spent a while every night sitting on the floor and explaining how the treatment was supposed to help his wings, how long they should take to heal, what sort of healing was going on. It was reassuring that Virgil seemed as uncertain about the more complex terms as Patton was, and he ended up following his suggestion to not remove the tape, especially since it hurt his wing to pull at it. 

He scooted back a little bit as heavy footsteps announced Virgil’s approach, and sure enough, the human crouched down next to the couch, setting his plate and a smaller one down on the floor. Patton watched as he used a fork to push some of the pasta onto the little plate, nudging it under the couch with a finger and then picking up his own plate to sit cross-legged on his chair. Virgil never tried to look in the gap to see if Patton was still there, which he appreciated, because that would be terrifying. 

The scientists didn’t care where Patton tried to hide, they simply moved whatever sat in his container until they found his hunched form and grabbed him up for more testing. It didn’t matter what he did. His actions meant nothing in the face of the control that the giants had over him. 

He didn’t realize he was audibly hyperventilating until Virgil shifted nervously and put his feet back on the ground, not standing up from his chair. Immediately, he shrunk back, pulling his wings in even more in fear that they would make him a bigger target. He wasn’t supposed to panic in the labs; it made for ‘skewed test results’. 

Virgil didn’t move to punish him, though. He just stayed there for a long moment, inhaling as though about to speak but floundering for the words. 

“Um, do you not like pasta?” He eventually blurted, and it was such a bizarre question that Patton was startled out of his panic, hiccuping slightly through an almost-laugh. Virgil didn’t seem to hear the tiny noise, and his voice rose an octave when he next spoke. 

“Oh man, are you allergic? Did I accidentally poison you with tortellini?” He asked, and the fear in his voice was so genuine that Patton tried to comfort him automatically. 

“I’m not allergic!” He said, and then froze. 

Virgil seemed to freeze too, and the silence stretched for a long moment. Patton began to shake. 

“Um, okay, I… good!” Virgil said, seeming to get over his shock. “Uh, good, yeah, I’m glad you aren’t having an allergic reaction or something. Whew.” 

With that, he slowly climbed back onto his chair, and Patton crept forwards, almost unable to believe that was all. When he peeked out from under the couch, though, Virgil was sat in his chair with his plate in his lap, looking at his phone. Nothing had changed. Speaking hadn’t gotten him punished. 

He took another step out, and Virgil’s mismatched eyes flicked over to him, widening slightly. Patton’s good wing flared out a little, but all Virgil did was nod awkwardly and avert his gaze again. 

“Um… Are you okay? You need something?” He asked, staring intently at his pasta. 

Patton opened his mouth to say no, already shaking his head slightly, but what came out was-

“Are you going to send me back?” 

He slapped a hand over his mouth as though he could cram the words back down his throat, and Virgil glanced at him again, confused.

“Back?” 

Patton swallowed thickly, figuring that if he was asking, he might as well get the truth. “To the labs. Are you- They’ll want me back.” 

“Labs?” Virgil echoed with wide eyes, and then he was shaking his head. “No, no way. If they’re why you feel so nervous around humans, no way am I going to send you back there.” He paused, taking in Patton’s crumpled expression. “Do you… want to go back?” 

“No! No, never!” Patton cried, feeling his eyes burn with unshed tears. “But if you aren’t… then why?” 

He didn’t elaborate, didn’t ask why Virgil was doing all this even though it would be so much easier to get rid of him. Virgil seemed to understand the unspoken question, face softening. 

“I just… I saw you were hurt, and you wanted to live. I just wanted to help, I guess, ‘cuz you deserve the chance to heal as much as anyone.” 

Something in him snapped, and Patton sank to the floor as he started to sob, big, heavy tears spilling over his cheeks. Virgil fluttered his hands around in alarm, eyes wide as saucers.

“Oh man, oh man. Please don’t cry, I didn’t mean to scare you!” He slid off his chair to kneel on the ground, still a fair distance away, hands clenching as though he didn’t know what to do with them. 

Patton laughed wetly, rubbing at his face. “I’m not scared…” He grinned, feeling the truth in the words, and looked up at Virgil’s stunned face. “I’m not scared!” 

And for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t.


End file.
